


Upturned

by happilyinsane13



Series: When You Least Expect It [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: "We would do the same for you", BAMF Nile Freeman, Bisexual Nile Freeman, Found Family, Multi, Nile Freeman Can Kick Ass on her own, Nile Freeman-centric, Nile gets kidnapped, Nile just wanted to get laid, Team as Family, The Team would kill for Nile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:55:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26310745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happilyinsane13/pseuds/happilyinsane13
Summary: All Nile had wanted was to get laid.Well, have drinks with new friends, take a break, and then get laid. In exactly that order. She had imagined this night going very, very, very differently.But no, Nile thought as she spit a mouthful of old blood from her mouth onto the concrete floor, she had gotten herself kidnapped for ransom instead.
Relationships: Andromache of Scythia & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova & Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: When You Least Expect It [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911655
Comments: 18
Kudos: 222





	Upturned

**Author's Note:**

> I reference two pieces of art at the beginning of this story that are in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. One is the "Annunciation with St. Margaret and St. Ansanus" by Simone Martini. You can find it here to see what expression I'm talking about: https://www.uffizi.it/en/artworks/annunciation-with-st-margaret-and-st-ansanus  
> And the "Venus of Urbino" by Titian which you can look at here: https://www.uffizi.it/en/artworks/venus-urbino-titian
> 
> Nile's dress is also taken directly from a dress the gorgeous Kiki Layne wore: https://fashionsizzle.com/2019/02/25/kiki-layne-in-atelier-versace-2019-oscars/
> 
> Che cazzo vuosi = roughly "What the fuck do you want?"

All Nile had wanted was to get laid. 

Well, have drinks with new friends, take a break, and then get laid. In exactly that order. She had imagined this night going very, very, very differently. 

But no, Nile thought as she spit a mouthful of old blood from her mouth onto the concrete floor, she had gotten herself kidnapped for ransom instead. 

* * *

Rewind to barely a week ago when the team had decided to take a break from bringing about vigilante justice. The mission had been brutal and utterly devastating. They had infiltrated the heart of a group of corrupt men running a sex trafficking ring. Unfortunately, many of the men and women who had been victims had been so broken, depleted, and malnourished that many had died even after being taken to hospitals. Some of them had confided they had no home to go to, nowhere to turn but back into the torturous arms of what they escaped. Nile had felt… empty afterwards. 

So Andy had decided to go on a little vacation. Nile suspected that she wasn’t going to Cambodia like she had said. She had a feeling Andy would be stopping by Paris. Joe and Nicky had gone to their haven in Malta. When asking where Nile would go she shrugged and said she’d figure it out. She wished them well and as soon as the three had gone she packed a bag and took out a smartphone she had on a pay as you go plan. She had made sure Copley had handled it first, encrypting it for privacy. 

She got onto WhatsApp and messaged the Borelli twins. 

After she had met the twins 6 months ago on the coast in Italy she had thought about them often. There had been a spark, a flutter in her stomach she hadn’t felt in awhile. And to be honest, she missed having friends her age. You know, millennial adults who got the references and jokes she made instead of staring at her, trying to figure out what decade, what century, the expression was from. 

Plus, if she was being honest with herself, she was hoping she could laid. 

She had made a WhatsApp account using only her first name and it hadn’t been hard to convince Copley to get her the numbers. ( _“And if you tell Andy I swear Copley, I will make my digital footprint a literal hell hole for you.”_ ) She had messaged them two weeks after their meeting, coming up with a lame excuse about how long it had taken to get a new phone, that she wasn’t big on social media, the usual spiel… and it had been constant messaging ever since.

Before she knew it she was meeting Marco and Lyda in Florence ( _“Firenze, Nile” Nicky would tell her_ ). She had never been so the twins insisted they meet in front of the Duomo di Firenze so she could see it. Plus anyone would be able to tell her where it is if she got lost. She found them in the crowded square right in front, the sun high in the sky, and when their eyes met hers she couldn’t help but laugh joyously as they ran towards her. They embraced her as if they had been friends parted for years, kissing her cheeks and each holding one of her hands in their own. 

“Nile, my dear, how are you? How is your brother? You must tell us everything!” Lyda said, leaning her head on Nile’s shoulder. 

“Don’t hog her, Lyda,” Marco chimed in. “And give her a chance to breathe.”

His radiant smile, his dark eyes, and the warmth of Lyda’s fiery head on her shoulder made Nile’s heart skip a beat. They chatted and giggled and _lived_. They took her to eat delectable food outside the city center, they complimented her on how her Italian had improved, they took her to the Uffizi Gallery, the Accademia Gallery, and the home of Dante Alighieri. She had wandered, wide eyed and beautiful, reveling in front of art and the history of literature for hours. When she saw Titian’s “Venus of Urbino” she felt tears well in her eyes and Marco had grabbed her hand and kissed her head. She giggled over Simone Martini’s “Annunciation with St. Margaret and St. Ansanus” with Lyda as they made comments on how the Archangel Gabriel and the Virgin Mary seemed to be having a vicious staring contest. 

They indulged her for days, enchanting her by day and keeping her warm at night in their tiny shared hotel room. They had all squeezed onto a queen size bed, Nile in the middle. Lyda and Marco insisted that she was helping them, because if Lyda and Marco had to share, one of them would get viciously kicked out and have to sleep in the bathtub. Nile didn’t comment on how their reasoning didn’t really make sense with three people in the bed either. She was enjoying it too much. 

But then the night of the party came. 

“So, we’re going to a rich people party?” Nile asked as Marco threw yet another dress over the dressing room door of the boutique they were in. Lyda giggled as the dress hit her head, taking it and throwing it in Nile’s direction. Both of them were trying on dress after dress, Lyda finding one thing or another that “just didn’t work.”

“Yes, you could say that,” Lyda commented, humming a bit as she shimmied into a little rouge number.

“Are you rich?”

“Oh no!” Marco said through the door. “We’re not. Just a friend of a friend of a friend’s cousin or something like that.”

“Yes, the Ferrero family,” Lyda commented. 

“Like the chocolates?” Nile teased, earning her a gentle slap on her bare shoulder. 

“No,” Lyda said. “But rich all the same. Here Nile, you’re beautiful in everything but try this on.”

Nile took the light pink, floor length, tight dress with an open back and what seemed like half a bow on the back. 

“Are you sure this is a party and not a gala?” Nile questioned. 

“To these people,” Marco said and Nile could feel the grin in his voice through the cheap white door, “It’s all the same.”

* * *

They arrived at a villa 40 minutes outside of Florence around 8pm. Nile shimmied herself out of the rental car, wearing the pink dress that both Lyda and Marco had insisted on. She had gotten a shiver down her spine when they looked at her, their brown eyes growing impossibly darker. 

“Are you sure we won’t look ridiculous?” Nile asked again as they walked to the large wooden door. 

“Trust us, Nile,” Lyda said. “We’ll look tame compared to the rest of them.”

They knocked on the door. They were met with silence. There was the sound of music being played on speakers inside but no steps, no conversation or drunken chuckles to be heard. Nile’s military instinct kicked in. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong…

“Lyda, Marco,” she said calmly, taking out her phone from her bra and handing it to them. “I need the two of you to go back to the car, take my phone. No matter what you hear, do not go inside. Take my phone.”

“Nile, what…” Lyda began but Nile turned towards her and put a hand to Lyda’s mouth. Nile heard faint footsteps, she knew there wasn’t much time. “Go, and whatever you do, please, before you call the police, call my brother. The code to my phone is 1994. Repeat it after me, now.”

Something in Nile’s voice, her confidence and command, made Marco and Lyda repeat the code. 

“Good, now, run to the car, get in, don’t be seen. If I don’t come out in 20 minutes, drive as fast as you can.”

They stood there for a minute like deer caught in headlights. 

“Go!” Nile commanded and finally the twins obeyed, running side by side back to the car. 

Nile breathed in, plastered on a fake smile, and knocked again. 

The footsteps were closer, louder this time. Soon the door opened up a crack, a middle aged man’s face, pock marked and hard peered out at her. Nile could faintly see his shoulder and the fabric, a black long sleeve t-shirt. Not designer. 

Definitely not a guest. 

“Hi,” Nile said brightly, putting on the best Valley Girl impression she could muster while still speaking Italian. “I’m Amelia Ford, part of the Ford family in America. Close friend to the Ferrero’s. Are you the valet? That would be so great, I mean, I parked my Mercedes in the back but I wasn't sure if that was the right place…”

Suddenly there was a gun in her face as the door opened. 

Nile pretended to gasp and step a bit back and to the side, hoping that Lyda and Marco had a clear view of it. 

“Get inside,” He growled, shoving his gun crudely in her side, forcing her inside the door before he closed and bolted it. Nile didn’t need prompting as he used his gun to force her to walk down the long entry hall. She was led into a solar where at least 20 men and women in designer clothes were bound and gagged on the floor. She surveyed the captors carefully. She counted 7 men, all in black and in various stages of middle age. All of them looked built enough to hold up in a fight, and every single one had a gun of various makes and models. 

One separated himself from the pack, holding a hunter’s shotgun in his hand. Either not a professional but well versed in firearms, or he just liked to see his victims being blasted back full of buckshot and pain. Looking at how swiftly they had brought this party down, she suspected the latter. 

“Who are you?” he asked. 

He didn’t lift his gun, just stared her down with cold grey eyes that would have turned a normal person into stone. Good thing Nile wasn’t most people. 

“Amelia Ford,” she said, trying to sound nervous. “Ford cars? Uncle is the current CEO…”

“Rich?” he asked. 

Nile couldn’t help but actually roll her eyes. 

“Well this dress is Versace, so…”

He apparently did not like that impertinence because the next thing she knew Nile was being backhanded across the face. A heavy gold ring split her lip and she knew then and there if she wasn’t quick, they would notice it heal. A drop of blood hit the neckline of her dress and she started to feel the cut heal. 

“I really wish you hadn’t done that,” she sighed. 

In a flash Nile dropped to the floor and swept her right leg under the man’s legs, splitting the dress and knocking him over. As he fell Nile made a grab for his shotgun and shot the crony behind her who had brought her in. He was lifted off his feet as the bullet blasted his head open. Nile heard muffled screams behind gags as the other 5 men descended upon her. 

Nile knew three things for sure. 

  1. She had to get this chaos away from the hostages.
  2. She had to get covered in so much blood it would be impossible to tell that she was healing impossibly fast. Didn’t matter whose. 
  3. She was really pissed off that she had to ruin this dress. 



Nile popped up and forward, letting herself get shot in the shoulder to protect the hostages behind her. She pressed on and grabbed the man’s head, kneeing him in the groin and using his body as a shield against further gun shots. She dragged the body back into the long hallway. Grabbing the cadaver’s gun she leveled it in front of her and fired 5 shots into the solar. All 5 missed the henchmen and one of them had the audacity to smirk at her. She smirked right back. 

Oh, Nile didn’t miss. 

3 rounds into the solar’s glass, enough to make an opening that people could break through. Enough to make a signal. To make noise. 

2 rounds shot downward to graze a hostage's old fashioned rope ties (who used rope anymore?) and it was enough to break them. While it had badly startled him and the hostages around him he soon realized his hands were loose and was quickly working on the bounds on his feet. Nile had to hurry. Had to distract the rest of the henchmen. 

So she drug the dead man back, pointing the gun at her pursuers. She let the dark blood from the bullet holes drench her dress so she was soaked, looking like she had just stepped off a production of  _ Carrie _ . 

Five men followed her deep into the house, one of them the leader she had royally pissed off. She stumbled into a grand bedroom, king size bed sideways behind her. With all her strength she hurled the dead man towards his comrades and flung herself over the bed and out of sight. Shots rang out again but this time Nile crawled on her belly under the bed, using the slippery blood on her dress to propel her forward on the hard wood floors. It was there she took the gun and carefully fired her last bullet into a man’s shin. 

She heard a yowl of pain and once again used her arm strength to slide herself forward on her belly, like a seal going down a snowy slope. Using the element of surprise she quickly grabbed the neck of the man who took the shot to the shin and snapped his neck. 

4 to go…

But before Nile could get up she was kicked in the face hard by a black leather combat boot. 

Nile reeled back and this time was kicked from behind. A rain of vicious boots rained down upon her and Nile decided in that moment to let it happen. Let their rage hurt her, let it kill her. The hostages needed time, they just needed more time…

Nile cried out, the pain becoming almost unbearable. White hot as she felt bones crush and break, shoulders and knees dislocate, and small organs rupture. Nile was breaking and healing all at once until she couldn’t tell them apart anymore. It hurt, it just all hurt so fucking much…

Nile didn’t know when she blacked out. She just hoped it would be enough. 

* * *

“Where the fuck is she? I think I heard gun shots…”

“It’s been 20 minutes, Marco, we have to call…”

And then Lyda and Marco saw people. Men and women in designer tuxes and dresses scrambling out of the side of the house, small cuts in their hands and ankles, and looks of fear on their faces as they ran to their cars. 

“Make the call, Marco,” Lyda whispered. 

Marco took out Nile’s phone, typed out the code and scrolled through her contacts. There were only five. 

He pressed the contact labeled “Nicky.”

* * *

Nile woke up covered in blood that was sticky. Starting to dry but it hadn’t been long enough. She was tied to a chair. The setting had changed slightly. Concrete floor, small space, various garden tools. They hadn’t gone far. Maybe a shed or groundskeeper’s cottage. 

“Che cazzo vuosi?” she hissed, sensing the man behind her. The dry itch in her throat was making it hard to speak. 

“Money. What everyone wants.”

The man she had kicked to the floor, the one she had assumed was the mastermind behind all of this, came from behind. His shoulders were broad and set, his grey eyes pieces of flint that wished to pierce right through her body. He had dark brown hair with a widow’s peak, and a thin mustache spread sparsely across a thick upper lip. 

“So you went for the richest brats in the region? Was that smart?”

“It would’ve been fine had you not pulled that little stunt,” he spat. “But if you’re who you say you are, you’ll do just fine replacing them. Your daddy must’ve paid a lot for those self defense lessons. Doesn’t surprise me with Americans though. We’ll take all the money he has left over.”

“Nice try,” Nile said, her voice still hoarse. “I don’t have a phone on me and I won’t give you any information.”

The thug leaned close to her face and Nile could smell tobacco and old meat on his breath.

“You’ll talk,” he said, grinning lazily. “Or we’ll take off one of your pretty appendages to send to America in a little gift box.”

Nile’s blood ran cold. 

Not just because she could lose a finger. But what would happen if they saw it grow back. 

Shit. 

* * *

Marco currently couldn’t breathe. 

It could've been because of his nerves, his utter fear for what could be happening to Nile. 

In reality it was because after 8 hours of waiting down the road from the villa his throat was currently pinned to the side of the rented sedan by Joe’s elbow, pressing down on his windpipe.

“Did you know, you son of a-”

“Joe, this isn’t helping, let the boy go-”

Somehow being called “boy” hurt more than the hard joint crushing Marco’s windpipe.

“What if it was planned? What if this was a trick to get Nile-”

“I honestly don’t think they would have thought of this. Focus on Nile, we need to get Nile.”

Joe released Marco and Marco gasped for air, sliding down the side of the car. Lyda fussed after him, sinking to her knees and checking his throat. Her hair was a mess, her eyes rimmed red, the sun had risen not long ago and they were starving and scared. They had done as Nile had asked. They called her step-brother instead of the police. They had figured when the heirs and heiresses to mass European fortunes started running out of the side of the villa one of them would call the police. But no police had come. Marco had almost called himself but Lyda had stopped him, saying that Nile had told them not to, that Nicolo had told them not to. 

_ “We will get her,” Nicolo had said, tense and breathing heavily over the phone. “If you call the police, you will just make it much worse.” _

Marco had thought they were all fucking crazy but Lyda, his other half and the person who always seemed to see things others could not, told him to wait. So they had waited. And when Nicolo and Joe (his boyfriend, according to Nile) had sped up in a truck that looked like the lock had been blasted open the first thing Marco was greeted with when he got out to flag them down was Joe’s fist. 

Nicolo, his eyes narrowed and hard, looked down at Marco and Lyda. His voice was calm, reassuring, but not kind. His kindness had been spent.

“Tell us exactly what happened. We need to know every detail of where you were going and what you witnessed.” 

Lyda was the one who spoke then, talking quickly of their arrival, Nile’s warning, how they had waited and witnessed nearly 20 people in evening wear running out, how they heard what sounded like gunshots and broken glass, and how after calling Nicolo they had waited. No police had shown up, even though they expected at least one of the rich brats to call. 

Lyda thought she heard Joe murmur, “Copley did his job then…” but it didn’t make sense to her. 

“Look,” Lyda said, meeting Nicolo’s gaze with a fierce one of her own. “We care about Nile. We need to get professionals in there. She could be hurt or… or…”

“We are the professionals,” Nicolo said simply. “You two need to leave.”

“No!” Lyda exclaimed. “We need to be here for her! We… we can help!”

“You can’t help with this,” Joe chimed in, grabbing two long black duffel bags out of the beat up truck bed and tossing one to Nicolo. “Trust us.”

“No,” Marco gasped, his voice raspy. “We need to know she’s okay, Nicolo…”

“Nicky.”

“What?”

“Nile calls me Nicky.”

There was a silence for a second. 

“Nicky please…”

Nicky sighed. 

“I’m sorry, but you have to get somewhere safe. Go back to Firenze. We… we’ll tell you when she’s safe.”

“You promise?” Lyda asked, but it was more of a challenge than a question. 

Nicky did not hesitate. 

“I promise.” 

* * *

After making sure the twins had driven off, they began their walk. Nicky and Joe traversed down the rest of the gravel path to the villa so as not to alert anyone of their presence. Adrenaline was still pumping through their veins, keeping them awake for the 8 hours it had taken to get to this part of Italy. They had to hijack a plane and 3 separate cars to get here and they were not stopping now. 

“Do you really think Andy is going to stay put?” Nicky asked, pulling his black hoodie over his head as the villa came into view. 

Joe snorted. 

“Bet you 100 euros she crashes the party somehow.”

“I don’t like the odds.” 

They stopped just short of the driveway and swiftly unpacked their weapons with practiced ease. Long sword, check. Scimitar, check, Sniper rifle, check. Multiple other assorted guns and knives, double check. 

“We’ll both sweep the house,” Joe said. “If it’s as we suspect and they relocated on the property, you climb to the roof and I’ll check the back shed. If they’re there I’ll try to lead people into your line of sight.”

Nicky nodded in assent and then leaned forward to give Joe a sound kiss. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, my heart. Now let’s go get Nile back.”

* * *

And so here Nile was, spitting old blood on the floor after getting smacked in the face for the tenth time after giving another false number. Lamenting how she got into this situation but, more than that, how she never even got a chance to see if she could get laid. Or at least some more platonic snuggling. You know what, all things considered, she would be okay with that. 

“I told you, if you gave another fake number I’d start cutting off your fingers,” the leader said, whipping out a butterfly knife like a toy. 

Nile snorted. 

“Maybe if you stopped hitting me in the head I’d actually remember,” Nile spat. 

It was with those words that the man truly lost his cool and in a split second had run his knife through Nile’s right hand, pinning it into the wooden arm of the chair. Nile couldn’t contain the screech of pain that emitted from her throat. With every slap and kick she had endured her pain tolerance had gone down. She honestly hadn’t known that her lungs had enough air in them to produce her scream but there it was, piercing and haunting and god what was she going to do when her body pushed the knife out and they saw…

Except she didn’t have to worry. 

Because suddenly the door to the shed burst open and Joe stormed in, firing a gun in one hand and swinging his sword in the other. With a mighty yell he dispatched the two men who had been guarding the shed door as efficiently as a butcher carving up a pig’s carcass. Nile’s remaining two captors turned on Joe and opened fire. It was such a narrow space that it was inevitable for Joe to be hit but before Joe went down he successfully lunged forward, forcing a squat man into the one window’s eye line. Within two seconds of Joe collapsing the squat henchman was shot clean through the head. 

The pack leader ran behind Nile, quickly untying her and ripping the knife free of her hand before her body could expel it. He hoisted her up, forcing her to walk outside. They stepped over Joe’s body and Nile craned her neck to make sure Joe was healing. She heard the faint pop of his body expelling the bullets and she exhaled in relief before being pushed out the door. She saw Nicky from the roof aiming his sniper rifle at them, but the asshole saw him too. Using Nile as a shield, he pushed her sideways, edging them slowly to the driveway. 

“You little bitch,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m going to gut you slow for this, I-”

“You’re not going to touch another hair on her head,” came a gruff voice. “You’ll be the one to be gutted. Isn’t that right, boss?”

“Well said, Joe.”

Nile’s captor turned around in surprise, loosening his grip on Nile. He went slack jawed as he saw a dead man walking and a woman with short brown hair grinning cruelly at him. 

“How-”

But before he could get the words out Andy crouched and took her axe, slicing it right across his belly while Joe had gone above her head and cut his neck open. The man fell, choking on blood and holding his open stomach and Nile watched numbly as he slowly died. 

Nile was still looking at him when she felt arms envelop her and lift her off the ground. 

“Don’t fucking scare us like that again, Nile, you hear?” Joe murmured in her ear, squeezing her tightly before setting her back on the grass. 

“You… you came for me…” she breathed, looking between Joe and Andy and now Nicky running towards them. 

“I told you we’d do the same for you,” Andy said, squeezing her shoulder gently. 

Nile opened her mouth to say something before being taken into another tight embrace, this time by Nicky who was murmuring in Italian, “Little sister, are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

Nicky ran his hands over her body, fingering the rips in her ruined dress. Although he knew there were no physical markings he also knew that whatever happened would have hurt. He pulled away slightly, blue-green eyes meeting brown ones, studying her fear all the way down to her soul. It was then he knew that, yes, it had hurt. It had hurt a lot. 

He hugged her again, more gently this time. 

“You were so brave, Nile,” he whispered, his breath a ghostly comfort in her ear. “You saved all those people. You were so selfless, so good.”

Nile laughed a little hollowly. 

“I wouldn’t call it completely selfless. I was pissed off when they got blood on my dress.”

“You still look stunning,” Nicky said, pulling away but keeping her hands grasped in his own.

“We’ll get you a new one, kid,” Andy said, with a shrug. “You’ll collect hundreds soon enough.”

“That wasn’t all, was it?” Joe asked, finally a light, teasing glint in his eye. “You wanted to bone those twins-”

“Joe!” Nicky admonished.

“Oh come on, Nicky, it’s like I said last time,” Joe said. “She needs to get some.”

“Says the man who nearly killed one of them.”

“Hey, I thought we had been set up. It’s different now.”

Nile looked up through her lashes at the three of them, not able to believe her ears. 

“You’re not mad at me? That I came here? To… well…”

Andy barked out a laugh. 

“Angry? No. Cautious, maybe. You have to be careful when you’re immortal. But you need to make your own decisions, Nile. That’s part of living.”

“Now come on,” Andy said, throwing an arm over Nile’s shoulder and leading them away. “I promised Booker I’d call him to let him know you’re alright. Besides, we should get away. I just texted him the signal.”

“Signal for what?”

Within a minute of getting into a vehicle that Andy promised wasn’t stolen it happened. The shed, the villa, and everything else around it blew up in a fantastic array of fire, debris, and smoke. 

  
“Oh,” Nile said, feeling a bit dumb as she smiled in the back seat. “ _ That _ signal.”


End file.
